What is rage. ^trigger warning?

Rage.

Everyone’s felt it. Everyone will probably feel it again. Some might share the same rage experiences, others might differ.

Rage for me, is something I’m used to, no that’s I lie, I’m still not used to it.

It starts in my bones, my hips, specifically, they ache, and in like one ironically graceful movement, my head will turn, like I’m trying to release the tension building in my neck, I’ll often exhale loudly.

It’s like a warning sign, that a beast is building inside my body, and screaming inside my head. I lose all patience, I grind my teeth out of frustration.

I try to suppress it, push it down deeper, so deep inside of me that I’ll have a little control.

It only makes me rage more when I realise that I’m only sitting on my bed, nothing is happening, nothing is triggering me, that confusion fills my head, causing me to lose the fight against myself.

I’m irritated at my own presence. Someone is shouting at me to stop, but I’m all alone. I feel like crying because I can’t control this emotion, building momentum inside of me, clawing it’s way to my skin, tearing holes in my body to escape.

I’ll want to scream as I slap myself in the head, my hair entwining between my figures as I pull on it, fighting to not rip it completely from my scalp.

I try with all I am to just count.
1, 2, 3 I will never make it to 10.

My whole body is aching, screaming, I want to lash out, I want to hurt myself, I want to hurt anyone in my presence.
I want to break anything and everything that my trembling hands can reach.

I try to suppress it, I’ll hit myself, I’ll hurt myself. I fight with all I am to stay away from anyone.

But, I just can’t control it. I just snap. I explode, so quickly from the inside out, my heart starts racing, I feel like I’ve just injected a shot of meth into my arm, like I’m indestructible, my hands no longer shake, my nails dig into my palms as my fists form, as they blindly connect with any object in my path. Everything I destroy is so sickly satisfying, to the point, where I’m sexually craving the same treatment from someone else, I want hands around my throat, the centre of my sexual need, completely abused.

My throat is burning from my screaming and my verbal abuse at inanimate objects.

Then, it’s black. Everything feels black, I fall to my knees as I feel the adrenaline no longer pumping through my veins and I just fall into myself. The pain starts.

My head body, my body aching, the blood, the things I’ve destroyed, tears will stream down my face, my body trembling as guilt and shame begins to cover me, like a blanket. Hiding my body completely, consuming me again, with another emotion, caused by myself. I hate myself more. That voice starts whispering, to just give up, just end it. I feel scared, no, I’m terrified. Just laying there, listening to my heart, my head, plead with me to just end it all.

That’s, that’s what rage feels like to me.

I’m scared to let people stay near me. It happens so quickly. I don’t feel like myself. I’m not even sure who “myself” actually is.

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I don’t even know anymore.

I think about death, so much, I’ve tried to end my life, and I have no doubt that I will again, and maybe one day, I won’t be so useless.

Or, my time will come naturally, either way death is a part of life. Even though the thought of death often fills my mind. I’m terrified, even though my fear is decreasing, I hope it never stops.

It’s ironic because I’m worried no one will remember me, I haven’t done anything remotely worth remembering. The world will keep spinning and the people consumed in their lives will keep on living, which is hilarious because it’s what’s happening now. I’m so confused about myself. What am I doing? Where am I going? WHAT AM I EVEN THINKING?

It’s like, I was born backwards. It’s like it’s a one-way-street, everyone is going in the right direction, sometimes making a few wrong turns, but getting back on the road, while I’m being pulled, kicking and screaming by something that I can’t see or comprehend, sometimes just letting it drag me, others, I’m grabbing to people, begging, pleading.

It’s like I have this inability to communicate, like being born backwards is making me talk backwards, no one is understanding me and they are just looking at me confused before they move away or leave. They always leave.

Posting what I was feeling used to make me feel, now the only thing I feel is numb. I have no energy. My body is tired, my mind is exhausted. What’s the point of talking if we cannot even speak the same language. I cannot even say I have lost my will to fight, because I don’t even think I had it to begin with.

I do not wish for someone to understand, my body aches at the thought of this, simple because, if you can understand me, you feel it, live it, too. Which is upsetting, because I don’t want anyone to hurt. I want to see people smile, even though I’m not included.

It’s bittersweet to be dragged down, while I’m accepting my fate, I feel comfort in knowing that, someone, any face that is looking right through me, is feeling life. 

Everyone believes in something. I believe in hope, it’s what gets me through the day, but even more so at night.

I hope that I never lose hope. 

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Drugs and I. *TRIGGER WARNING**

It’s certainly interesting when people find out I’m a drug user, (I don’t have specific drug of choice, it all depends on my mood, ranging from H, to acid)

Some people are surprised, some denial, and others, well I have lost “friends” to say the least.

Regardless of their reaction, and their judgment, they all ask the same question, which is usually blurted out in nothing short of confusion and curiosity, maybe even some care?

Some assume, that I self medicate, or that I want to die, want to hurt myself, that I hope I overdose.

Some assume it’s pure stupidity, not that I disagree with that assumption.

Up until recently, I also found it difficult to explain, especially because I don’t use in a party setting very often, it’s regularly by myself, which also lead to their confusion, and fuelled the assumptions that I was trying to hurt myself, or self medicate.

Unable to give an acceptable answer as to why, I would just always say no. Especially if they asked if I was planning on stopping, which made them assume I was a hardcore addict.

Sometimes I would agree, that I am addicted, not to a specific drug, but for what happens, which makes little to no sense for someone who hasn’t used.

So, I decided to put serious thought into it, not just so I can explain myself, or maybe justify my actions to others, but to understand why I do it.

I’m not trying to hurt myself, even though I fully understand the dangers, the risks, the damage the various drugs I partake in can cause, I don’t want to use drugs to kill myself.

I don’t self medicate with drugs, I’ve been down that road, and from my experience, it made living with Bi-polar extremely worse.

I’m an addict in the sense, that I enjoy it, I don’t need it to survive, to function. So after going over my answers, and questioning myself as I do best, I realised..

I do drugs, because I like to lose my mind. I enjoy feeling out of control, or a different version of myself, not because it provides artificial happiness, because it provides me with a moment where I can see things from a different perspective, I can think, without judging myself, or bullying myself. Different drugs provide me with different emotional thought processes, and euphoria, but they all provide me with a sense of losing my mind.

I can understand that my reasoning may not make sense, I don’t expect people to understand, until you live a life where your own mind is your enemy, it can be releasing to lose it.

Which is peculiar, because while I love the high, I prefer the come down, where the drugs are leaving your system, and the high is passing, my body may ache, but I feel myself coming back into reality, with what I can relate to as, a fresh of breath air. Allowing my mind to get lost, and give me momentary peace and artificial happiness. I find myself more capable to see the “good” around me, I feel I appreciate myself, and things more, even if it only lasts a day, or a week.

I could almost use the analogy, that my brain is a battery that has gone flat, all I need is a jump start, and I am able to perform for a little while longer.

I know, someone out there reading this, is probably not making any sense of my answer, and that’s completely okay.

We all have something that helps us get through the day, but even more so at night.

PLEASE NOTE
While I am expressing my personal opinion on my drug use, I do not condone drug use, or am I making an attempt to glorify it.

If you feel like you are dependant on substances, it is okay to seek help. Your life is important, and while I am sharing my thoughts on my personal use, do not think that the same process will happen to you. Drugs are illegal and dangerous. I am aware of the damage I am doing to my body, and if you are not a user, the damages are not worth the risk of hoping to reach a state similar to mine. Drug addictions can ruin your life, and turn a bad situation into a worse one, so whatever you are going through, please know you do not need to rely on substances, there are people who care, and people who will help. Please understand that if you are not a user, it is certainly not worth the risk, and while I enjoy it, and continue I do wish, I never started.

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